<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Bea &amp; Mae by HowardR</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28510131">Bea &amp; Mae</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/HowardR/pseuds/HowardR'>HowardR</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Tea Talks [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Night In The Woods (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Conversations, I mean it's in a one shot collection, It's Literally Just Them Talking, Kinda, MaeBea if you squint - Freeform, One Shot, One Shot Collection, Short, Short &amp; Sweet, Short One Shot, Talking, Tea, with tea</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:06:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>880</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28510131</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/HowardR/pseuds/HowardR</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Bea and Mae have tea and talk.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mae Borowski &amp; Bea Santello</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Tea Talks [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2084601</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Bea &amp; Mae</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“This place is cool!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea glanced up from her cup. “That’s not exactly the first word I would use to describe it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, like,” Mae said, glancing away, “not </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> cool. Or like, punk cool. But like. Nice cool! Cozy cool. Like Angus!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Alright. I can see that,” Bea said, lifting her spoon from her tea and gently tapping it against the rim of her cup. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae grinned. “You look so </span>
  <em>
    <span>refined.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You</span>
  </em>
  <span> look like an idiot,” Bea deadpanned, setting her spoon aside. “And are you going to drink that tea black, or…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh! Right!” Mae leaned forward for the cream, snatching it with her usual carelessness. “I mean, I prefer coffee anyway, but tea’s decent too!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mom had a decent tea set,” Bea said, staring down into the surface of her cup. “She liked to make a thing out of it every Christmas. Dad would usually make some hot chocolate afterwards. I always preferred the hot chocolate as a kid, but now… it’s a bit sweet for me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae stared across the table at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A beat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...What was he like?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea glanced up. “Hm?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your dad,” Mae said. “What was he like, before? I didn’t really see him much when we were kids.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Uh. He was…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea stared off into nothing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Heh. I don’t really think about it much, I guess,” she said, a little more awkward than usual. “He was… passionate. From the south, y’know - his accent is mostly gone now, but around other southerners, it was pretty obvious. He had some fire.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I remember one time,” she said, smiling softly, “on Fourth of July, he brought home this massive crate of fireworks. Pretty sure some of them were illegal. If not most of them. And we blew them up in our backyard. Sounded like gunshots. They didn’t even really work properly - Dad said the guy who sold them was probably a con artist - but he found a way to blow them up anyway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They wouldn’t fire up in the air. They’d just… explode. On the ground. And I remember having to hide behind the grill to avoid getting singed - and the shockwave of the thing would nearly make my ears pop. Dad had tons of holes in his shirt afterwards - Mom was pretty mad at him. But it was… fun.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When she glanced back, Bea blinked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae had a massive grin on her face - and her eyes were sparkling dangerously. “That’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>awesome!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea realized, very suddenly, that telling Mae that story might have been a mistake.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You think he could tell me where he found those fireworks?” she said, leaning forwards. “Does he even remember? Ooh, we should blow some up together! We’ll have to invite Germ, too, or he’ll get sad that he didn’t get to see the explosions - same with Gregg, he always wants to do crimes with me-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hold on,” Bea said - but it was no use.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae was off. And there was that little shine in her eyes still that told Bea this was going to happen no matter what she did.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea sighed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...You’re not lighting any of them,” she said, glaring firmly. This was pretty much her only chance to keep Mae from getting herself killed. “You aren’t getting singed. I’ll light them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae groaned. “Come </span>
  <em>
    <span>ooooon,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Beebee. Just a few! I promise I’ll run away super fast!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just one?” Mae tried, with her very best puppy dog eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea refused to crack. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“No.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Fine,” Mae said, looking incredibly disappointed. “But you have to let me drive on the way home.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not a snowball’s chance in hell, Maeday.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“C’moooon! I have my leaner’s permit - and I have to practice anyway if I wanna get my license! And I already have, like, twenty hours clocked in!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Twenty hours?” Bea deadpanned, with a raised eyebrow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Okay, more like fifteen, but still a lot!” Mae said, clasping her hands pleadingly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Pleeeeease??”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...You’ll drive ten under the speed limit.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before Mae could say a word, Bea cut her off. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“And</span>
  </em>
  <span> you won’t turn a </span>
  <em>
    <span>single time</span>
  </em>
  <span> unless </span>
  <em>
    <span>and until</span>
  </em>
  <span> I tell you. Okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay! Yes!” Mae said, hopping out of her seat and bouncing on her heels. “...I don’t think I’ve ever seen your keys, actually.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ve ridden in my car like… a dozen times,” Bea said flatly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t pay attention to the </span>
  <em>
    <span>keys</span>
  </em>
  <span> when I’m in a car!” Mae said, a little indignantly. “I put my hand out the window, or try to follow the powerlines.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well. Here,” Bea said, tossing her the keys limply and already feeling like she had made a huge mistake. “Start taking notes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Oh my God.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have </span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span> dangly boy on your keys!” Mae said, glancing up at her with clear shock.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...’Dangly boy’?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah! Like, the little dangly things! There are like plastic ones, and not plastic ones, and they jingle on their little dangly chains whenever you grab the keys!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...You mean keychains?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes! Those!” Mae said, with </span>
  <em>
    <span>triumph,</span>
  </em>
  <span> for some reason. “Where are your keychains?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t have any,” Bea said, rolling her eyes. “They’re pointless.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She diligently fished some cash out of her wallet to pay for their tea.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What! How could you not have keychains???” Mae asked, as they walked out the door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae’s cup hadn’t been touched.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I did another one.</p><p>I'm getting back into it. Slowly but surely.</p><p>I do sometimes write dialogue-only scenes, but I'm not incredibly good at it. I'm just less effective if I can't describe actions, posture, tone, facial expressions. But I love writing dialogue - it's what I'm best at, I like to think. Even if both Mae and Bea were a little bit OOC for this. Basically, writing dialogue scenes where the characters are doing something really simple that doesn't take much description but can still be mentioned once in a while - like preparing and drinking tea - and can still be used to help their characterization - like deciding how they would take their tea, or how much and how quickly they drink - is basically the easiest and funnest thing in the world to me. Hence why I'm using it to get back into writing.</p><p>I imagine I'll have a few more of these before I can really get back into my full-time stories. When I do, I'm gonna see if I can update some I've kinda left in the dust - and for any of ya'll who've read A Lack of Proximity and are waiting for more, there might be some coming soon. Same with anyone who has an actual interest in Thirty Feet - that one's taking it's sweet time, though.</p><p>Uh. Think that's all. Hope you enjoyed.</p><p>I take cream and sugar,</p><p>-Howard R.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>